


Pale Moonlight Optional

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Creepy Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Dancing, Demonic Possession, Gen, Manipulation, Misgendering, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Transphobia, because Satan is an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A dance is the devil's procession, and he that entereth into a dance, entereth into his possession.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21
Collections: Anonymous





	Pale Moonlight Optional

The shop door bell rang out cheerfully.

“We’re closed!” Aziraphale called, not bothering to look away from _Black Sheep_. There was nothing to be concerned about. Most humans did in fact bother with the social contract of a ‘closed’ sign, and those that didn’t would have made a great deal more noise with trying to open locks that had more going for them than simply mechanisms and metal. He had thought Crowley had mentioned visiting a gardening centre – for very nefarious reasons, of course – while he was preoccupied catching up with his reading, but perhaps he had lost track of days again. A good book (or ten) could do that.

Crowley didn’t answer, but then he’d already made every comment there was to make about Aziraphale’s idea of running a shop and business hours being for other people. It was too obvious a joke for him to bother with until he had something new, Aziraphale supposed, turning a page with deliberate indifference.

He wrinkled his nose slightly at the faint scent of brimstone that accompanied the nearing footsteps. Odd. Crowley liked to shower as soon as he could after leaving Hell. It got the grime off and it was just plain polite. Aziraphale didn’t let Gabriel’s idea of a cologne linger any longer than necessary, after all. “Did you visit the office? Wipe your hands on the Jeffrey Archers.”

Crowley’s footsteps paused, then wandered off in the direction of--

“Not the sleight of hand section!”

There was a faint huff of laughter, not even slightly intimidated by the hint of divine wrath that crept into Aziraphale’s outraged voice. Aziraphale found a bookmark with some difficulty – he had many scattered about the place, but somehow he could never find one when he wanted it, something he was sure was an unfortunate side-effect of Crowley’s frequent presence – and put his book aside with an apology and a promise to return to it shortly.

“Cr—”

He froze. The man-shaped being in the store was not Crowley.

“ _Hello,_ ” Satan said.

“Hello,” Aziraphale said blankly. He mentally apologised to his book; it didn’t seem very likely that he would return to it shortly, and in fact seemed highly likely he would not get to return to it at all. “Er.”

The real problem was, he decided, that there was just nothing in _The Earthly Angels’ Book of Etiquette & Excellent Manners_ regarding how to actually address the Adversary in situations where invectives would not be acceptable. ‘Pile of festering excrement’ was fine if you were trying to throw him into a bottomless pit, Aziraphale supposed, but seemed a bit much for casual conversation. And he certainly couldn’t call him ‘lord’, even if failing to acknowledge his rulership of Hell seemed… imprudent.

“ _You are the angel of the Eastern Gate,_ ” Satan said. His tone was faintly quizzical, but his expression did not change.

“Um. Yes?” Aziraphale said. “That is – I was? It’s… rather outdated now, I should think? The Garden being somewhat sealed ever since... um.”

“ _Ah,_ ” Satan said, and only then did his expression start to change, matching too late his previous tone. “ _We have the right angel then._ ”

“Are you possessing that poor man?” Aziraphale blurted, horrified.

“ _Oh, his heart gave out the moment we put him on, don’t worry,_ ” Satan said, tapping his still chest absently, and now that he mentioned it, the echo in his voice seemed obvious and unintended. He took a step towards Aziraphale and the change in lighting revealed eyes beginning to film over. “ _Assuming that sort of thing bothers you, of course._ ”

“It just seems… unsanitary,” Aziraphale said. “Surely you have something, er, purpose made?”

“ _For what purpose? Our agents wander to and fro; we cannot leave Hell for long._ ”

“Oh, how long exactly?” Aziraphale asked brightly, glancing at his locked doors.

“ _Long enough_.”

Don’t ask, Aziraphale told himself sternly. Absolutely do not – “Long enough for what?”

“ _To get to know you, angel._ ”

Well that wasn’t ominous at all.

“I'm sorry, I was just going to say that body looks rather young for a heart attack,” Aziraphale said, determinedly ignoring the waiting avenue of conversation in favour of the slightly more well-lit street of semi-avoidance and small talk.

“ _We suppose_ ,” Satan said, glancing down at his body. “ _Human bodies tend to do that when we wear them, regardless of age. This one was a teenager, we think it's called now? Too young to know better, too old to claim innocence, and so very often too intoxicated to think things through. Knocking on the gates of Hell without expecting an answer is an unfortunate party game to be playing when we just happen to need a body._ ”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said, for want of anything better to say. “I did think your dress looked very... celebratory.”

“ _It was his birthday_ ,” Satan said, clicking his fingers absently and turning it into a three piece suit in a ripple of sequins. “ _Her birthday, technically. That was the agreement that let us in – he wanted more than anything a body that matched his secret heart_.”

“I rather think he expected to be alive to see it,” Aziraphale pointed out carefully.

“ _Should have specified as much then_ ,” Satan said indifferently. “ _Our part of the agreement is fulfilled: the body is now male._ ”

“Heaven forbid the integrity of your word be under question,” Aziraphale muttered.

“ _What was that, angel_?” Satan asked, sounding very forbidding indeed.

“Please don’t call me that,” Aziraphale said, rather than think about it deeply or long enough to start gibbering.

“ _Why not? It is what you are. Angel._ ”

“I have a name,” Aziraphale said primly. And before he could regret it: “A Name, even.”

“ _We have a thousand and more,_ ” Satan said. His mouth sank down at the corners, pulled more by gravity than underlying musculature. “ _Impolite of you to brag about the only one we can no longer bear._ ”

“Terribly sorry,” Aziraphale said, and nearly meant it. The afternoon sunlight seemed to have abruptly vanished, the air gone cold with its loss. The walls were closer, and the shelves and tables and towering book piles suddenly recognisable as nothing more than obstacles to escape rather than beloved possessions. “It’s, ah, Aziraphale, if you were wondering.”

“ _We weren’t,_ ” Satan said, but the shop was no longer quite so airless. “ _We’ve heard much of you, Aziraphale._ ”

“All... all good things I hope?” Aziraphale said, shoving down an unnecessary sense of betrayal. You couldn’t have your wiles thwarted without an Enemy, of course. Aziraphale’s own reports would be rather sparse if he didn’t have a cunning and well-informed opponent to thwart. He supposed his actual name had to have come up at least once, there were only so many excuses you could make for not knowing the name of someone you've been feuding with for six thousand years.

“ _Well, that depends on the perspective, doesn’t it? We think they are... Interesting._ ”

Interesting, Aziraphale thought, suddenly sounded like a very bad thing indeed, perhaps even the worst thing to be.

“ _You have been on Earth a very long time, haven’t you? Long enough to pick up a few things._ ”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying,” Aziraphale said, very carefully.

“ _Oh, please don’t take offence,_ ” Satan said. “ _We don’t mean anything… improper. Unless the Lord’s opinion has changed on certain matters in recent decades. We do try and keep track, but well, you know Them. Better than us, these days._ ”

Crowley had never actually mentioned how Satan had taken losing the Lord’s favour, but given, well, Satan, Aziraphale felt safe in assuming the answer was ‘badly’ and he probably wasn’t actually looking for agreement, however true it may or may not be.

“Let’s agree to disagree,” he suggested.

Satan’s mouth did something complicated and unkind. “ _As you say, angel._ ”

Aziraphale winced and tried to look away, then reconsidered the wisdom in taking his eyes off the Devil. “Er. What would the Lord’s opinion have changed on, exactly?”

“ _It hasn’t,_ ” Satan said, his mouth laughing, even if the rest of his face wasn’t. “ _We are not receiving every human soul in existence, at least, so we assume it’s safe to say so. And therefore, safe for you to do._ ”

“And what exactly would it be safe for me –”

“ _Dancing,_ ” Satan said.

“Dancing?” Aziraphale said, blinking at him. “That is, I did just hear you say – dancing? You came here to... ask me to dance?”

“ _Yes. We love to dance, Aziraphale. Is it such a surprise? What else to do with all the best tunes?_ ”

“Listen to them?”

“ _Now there speaks an angel,_ ” Satan said, shaking his head pityingly. “ _No wonder you have nothing but Elgar and Liszt._ ”

“They’re not so bad,” Aziraphale said staunchly. Satan’s borrowed eyes rolled so hard they gave out entirely, trickling down his cheeks to reveal sockets filled with brilliant light. “Well," Aziraphale corrected weakly, watching vitreous fluid drip onto his floor and wondering if it would stain, “maybe a little variation might be nice...”

“ _Poor angel,_ ” Satan said. “ _And a poor liar. Most angels we would believe could listen to music without wanting to dance, but you… we’ve heard such promising things about you._ ”

“Promising?” Aziraphale said.

“ _Oh, it’s the dream of any demon to drag an angel down,_ ” Satan said dismissively, waving a hand expansively and clearing a space around them, furniture reappearing at the walls without displacing a single book. Aziraphale gave a sigh of relief despite himself. “ _We have no hopes on that score, even for our most persuasive. That’s not the kind of promise we mean._ ”

“I should certainly hope not!” Aziraphale said, as indignantly as he dared.

“ _Demons are bad dancers,_ ” Satan said, eyeing the newly cleared space around them critically. “ _Just another of the Lord’s little jokes. But you – you can dance, can’t you, Aziraphale?_ ”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll dance with you,” Aziraphale said, crossing his arms.

“ _We think you will,_ ” Satan said, so calmly confident it was almost dizzying. How easy it would be to trust that rock-certain belief and mistake it for truth, Aziraphale realised. How comforting it must have been for the newly created demons, when everything else they knew was lost. He'd never really thought about it before. Crowley had certainly never talked about it. “ _You have been dancing with us for millennia, Aziraphale._ ”

“I most certainly have not--”

“ _We dare say dancing with us literally is less dangerous than another Arrangement you have,_ ” Satan said, and Aziraphale froze.

Crowley wouldn’t – No, of course he wouldn’t. He was terrified of being found out, his side didn’t send rude notes – but it certainly _sounded_ as if Satan knew: that capital was audible –

“ _When was the last time you had an actual dance partner, Aziraphale? Don’t you miss it?_ ”

When had he last seen Crowley? Was it three days ago or four?

Satan’s face was obscured by the blinding lights of his eyes, features rendered indistinguishable by the glow. His voice gave nothing away.

If he asked about Crowley and Satan didn’t know, or at least, didn’t know for certain –

“I – it’s been a while,” Aziraphale said weakly. If he let Satan have his dance he might be more amenable to answering some – very carefully phrased – questions. At least, it couldn’t hurt. Much. For long. Not unless Satan was willing to violate several long-standing treaties for the sake of an hour or two of entertainment, anyway. 

“ _That’s fine,_ ” Satan said. “ _We always let our partner set the pace._ ” There was a hint of smile in his voice, the echo long burnt out. “ _At first._ ”

He held his hand out. Reluctantly, Aziraphale took it.


End file.
